A/N I'M BACK! I'M SO SORRY FOR LEAVING – I LEFT A NOTE ON MY PROFILE.
Today marks my last day of secondary education. I've been in the middle of all my final exams this last month so that has been the reason for lack of updates! So now, instead of celebrating my freedom by going out like your regular eighteen-year old, I'm sat here with my tea and laptop and am determined to get this out by the end of the night! I'm free for the summer now so expect updates on a more regular basis.
Thank you for all the reviews, alerts and favourites while I was AWOL and welcome to any new readers. I swear the e-mail alerts were one of the things that kept me relatively sane through this last month. I'm really glad you all like the story, I wasn't expecting to get such a response so as always thank you, thank you, thank you! I appreciate every single review and comment so much and love you all!
Aaaaand breathe Hannah. Anyway that's enough of my rambling, hope you enjoy this chapter.
Wes pulled Santana down the hallway, brightened by the sunshine streaming through the windows that dotted the panelled walls occasionally. The floor was covered with a thick creamy carpet and the panelled walls were adorned with frame after frame of smiling family photos. Santana was able to recognise Wes briefly in the little time she took to study them before being tugged away. She caught glimpses of several rooms as they passed including a study, a bedroom and what looked like a small room lined with book shelves. Finally Wes stopped before one of the doors and pushed it open. He took a step inside and pulled Santana in with him before giving the door a little shove so that it was almost closed.
From the second she walked into the room she was struck by how bright everything was. There was a large Window on the far side of the room and the sun shone brightly through, illuminating the soft yellow walls. The room itself was spacious, a large double bed with a deep blue and green throw on the left, next to the window was a simple desk covered in CD cases and random, haphazardly strewn papers. Despite the clutter that covered almost every surface in the room there seemed to be an air of organised chaos that fitted made her lips twitch instinctively. It was so iteratively Wes. She gathered all this at the first glances she took when stepping further into the room but as she turned and spotted the enormous cork board on the right wall everything else seemed to fade in comparison. It was covered in photos, tickets, little doodles, sheet music... Santana was sure that she'd be able to track his entire life from looking at that wall alone. She ignored Wes and walked over to the photos with growing curiosity, because although they'd spent all this time together she was yet to hear much about Wes' life outside of Dalton Academy and the hours he passed with her.
"Wow." She muttered quietly as she brushed her fingers against the nameless faces on the wall. She spun around and surveyed the rest of the room. Wes watched her with a fond smile as she took everything in, enjoying the look of absolute absorption in her eyes. Santana couldn't help but compare the bright, cheerful room to her own. She supposed that both of their rooms were fitting to their respective occupants. Wes suited this sunny, happy space while she would always be most comfortable surrounded by the soothing, seductive darkness of black and red. Despite that she felt strangely at ease here, perhaps not as comfortable as she would have felt surrounded by dark fabrics and poster but different, definitely different. She noted that his bookshelf held very little books but his CD and DVD racks were both so full that he'd began to stack cases on either side and even those piles seemed to be growing at a rather rapid rate.
She walked back over across the light, laminate wood flooring to the photo wall again.
"So are your parents at work?" She asked mildly while she studied the faces. "You could have told me that before I freaked the hell out." Her fingers traced the photos lining the corkboard. She smiled to herself as she came to a photo of a familiar, albeit much younger, Asian boy. Wes had the same grin but lacked his two front teeth.
She hadn't notice the silence but when she turned back to Wes and noticed the vacant expression the silence in the room grew uncomfortable and hung thickly in the air between them. She felt a slight twinge of dread, the one she got when she'd said something tactless without meaning to. Although this happened rarely as most of her comments were uttered with the intention to hit it's mark. She crossed the room cautiously.
"Wes?" His eyes snapped up to hers, supposedly re-energised. He grinned at her but there was something lacking in his usual sincere expression that Santana couldn't place. She considered asking him what was wrong but lost her train of thought as something at the head of Wes' bed caught her attention. She made a beeline towards the light pink plush toy peeking out in the centre of a vast accumulation of silky cushions.
"What the hell is that?" Santana asked and reached out to pick the battered toy up, her mouth curled in distaste. Without warning Wes sprinted towards her, snatched the rabbit up before she could touch it and dived onto the bed. He reached out for her hand a second before he leapt up and as she yelled out his name in protest she tumbled down clumsily beside him.
"What in the hell did you do that for?" She spat.
"What do you mean?" Wes answered defensively as his arms tightened around the ragged looking rabbit. Santana pushed herself up from the pillows, blowing her dishevelled hair out of her face, and glared at him. Wes played absently with one of the rabbit's worn ears as the other propped him up so that he was facing her.
"Really? You're really going to play that game with me?" She asked, tilted her head forward to look at him and frowned. Wes deliberated for a second and then with great reluctance offered the stuffed animal to Santana. She studied it and her lips turned down in aversion before reaching out and taking the bunny gingerly by the ear with her index finger and thumb, holding it at a safe distance, away from her body.
Wes lowered himself against the cushions, crossing his legs beneath him and rocking back slightly.
"My mom gave it to me when I was six, just before she left." He smiled ruefully, not looking at her. "I made out I hated it back then, that I didn't want it considering the way she'd left" He turned his eyes back to focus on Santana.
"I still kept it though..." His smile faltered and twisted into something almost melancholy that didn't sit well in Santana's stomach. He sighed and she could see his attention wavering. Santana froze still holding the rabbit warily she considered what she'd asked him a few minutes ago.
"Are your parents at work?" She really didn't know anything about Wes she realized with and she felt as though she'd been kicked.
She glanced down to look at it tilting her head. She supposed it was kind of sweet. With a little more care than she'd taken with it before she placed the plush toy lightly between them. Santana frowned and shuffled uncomfortably, she glanced back at Wes who was still lost in his thoughts. As she drummed her fingers agitatedly on the soft, blue comforter Santana was reminded again of how bad she was at handling these situations. Lust, anger, jealousy – these were all emotions she experienced, ones she knew how to handle. Anything else left her at a loss. Usually Santana was the root of people's problems which generally excluded her from any emotional aftermaths. In the limited experience she'd had of how to comfort others she could find nothing useful to apply. All she could think of was Brittany but of course Brittany would always be a special exception. With anybody else it usually ended in her blurting out the first offensive thing that crossed her mind. One day she knew she'd have to rectify that but for today the situation played out exactly the same as any other.
"Sissy boy." She said, clear enough to be heard but without the malice that usually laced her insults.
Wes looked up, the hazy clouds marring the dark brown lifted. Santana wasn't able to meet his eyes, staring intently at the floor instead. Even her insult had come out sounding tired and half-hearted. She waited for the anger, the disappointment, the disgust, the usual reactions that she'd relish provoking from anyone else. They didn't come. Instead she felt the light touch of fingertips brushing hers. Wes enveloped her hand with his and rubbed his thumb against her clenched knuckles. Santana turned to face him with the most impassive face she could muster considering, he gave her a little smile and his eyes told her that he understood her intention. The eyes told her that, although she herself couldn't find the appropriate words, Wes understood her.
"Thanks." He said. Santana looked away and nodded in reply. They fell into a comfortable silence but after a while Santana felt compelled to probe further.
"What happened?" She asked eventually looking up at him. Wes studied her for a second, processing the question, before turning away to answer the opposite wall.
"Mom left when I was six. I don't know where she is now. Dad died in a car accident when I was twelve. I started living with my grandma when I was thirteen." Despite his grave expression Wes' tone remained neutral and it was at that moment that Santana realised something. Behind all the smiles and general madness there was something else at Wes' core. Before she'd looked at him and only seen the blinding light of happiness and blind optimism that he emitted freely without shame, now as she saw the clouds in Wes' dark eyes she began to see the shadows behind the brightness. She wasn't the only one who met reality with a mask. Maybe the damage in Wes' heart was what had prompted him to see the damage in Santana's that first day, what persuaded him to stay when all she wanted was to push everyone away.
"I'm sorry." She mumbled uncomfortably. It felt odd, apologising like that, the words felt foreign in her mouth and the second they crossed her lips she wished she could take them back. She was reminded of her grandfather's funeral. She'd only been ten but she could still distinctly remember the seemingly never-ending stream of faces all moulded into the same masks of pity. Some of them would reach down to hug her, some simply nodded at her sympathetically but Santana had simply ignored it with a stoic expression. Then again, she'd hardly known her grandfather. Wes' situation was incomprehensibly different.
As she remembered Wes looked at her thoughtfully. He let go of her hand and squeezed her knee briefly. When she looked up at him in question he smiled. "It feels like a long time ago." He told her. The mood lightened and Santana's shoulder's relaxed considerably.
"How did it happen?" Wes leaned away, palms face down behind him and let out a breath wondering where to begin. "With your Dad I mean." She clarified.
After a few seconds of contemplative silence Wes turned around to lean over the opposite side of the bed. When he straightened up again he brought with him a small shoe box. As he spoke he opened the box and emptied it onto the bed. Its contents, a moderate collection of photos, lay strewn haphazardly between them and Santana reached out to pick up the one nearest to her.
"Like I said, I was only twelve when he died. You'd think that it would be something you'd remember well but it feels like a really long time ago now." He began to explain as Santana studied the three figures in the photo. One, a little boy, although slightly rounder was clearly identifiable as Wes. The other two must be his parents she realized and went back to study their faces. Wes scooted closer so that they were sitting side by side, arms pressed together.
"I was about five in this one, I'm in the middle there." he smiled fondly. "The woman is my mother, and that there's Dad." He pointed them both out. Santana nodded and studied the figures. Wes' father looked a lot like his son, the same height and build but his father's features were more distinctively Asian than Wes'. His mother was really very pretty, blonde with light eyes and a slim figure. Santana's eyes flickered up to Wes' face and back down to the photo, he didn't look a lot like his mother but there was something familiar in the way she held herself.
"I don't really know why she left. I don't think she'd ever really been that happy..." Wes didn't seem too sad talking about his mother, there was an air of detachment in his voice. He reached over Santana and picked up another photo, Santana placed the one she'd been holding back in the box.
"After mother left it was just me and dad for a bit. I liked that, just the two of us, but when I was nine he re-married." He showed her the picture. Wes looked about ten and was standing apart from the couple in the photo with his arms crossed and a scowl marring his features. Santana's eyebrows rose higher than she ever thought was possible, she turned to Wes in question. He laughed at her expression and rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously.
"Yeah, I was... unhappy for a while. It was probably jealousy, I didn't make things easy for them that's for sure."
"I can't imagine you being difficult." Santana said sceptically.
"You'd be surprised." Wes laughed. "Up until Grandma came along I was a little bratty I guess. Then Dad died and things just seemed to go horribly wrong from there. I can't remember a lot now, I just remember feeling so angry all the time. Some parts are clearer than others though..." he stated absently. She looked up at him and bit her lip hesitantly. Did he want to talk about it? Should she ask? Damn it, she thought in panic, what do you say in a situation like this? She considered Wes' wistful expression. She felt a small wave of sickness in the pit of her stomach. This expression was wrong on Wes' face, she wished his smile back so that she could go back to their usual routine. She'd be cynical and biting, he'd be cheerful and his super-human tolerance to her bitchy countenance. Santana felt as though they were dipping into new, possibly dangerous territory. She'd become accustomed to their friendship, it was simple and natural. It was a little like breathing. She didn't have to think about it, it was just a natural response.
Santana was afraid. The realisation came as an unwelcome jolt because when was Santana ever really afraid? And afraid of losing the friendship of the complete and utter goofball that was Wes. Santana resisted the urge to groan in horror because she remembered that Wes was in fact still in the room with her and whilst she argued internally Wes hadn't said a word. Santana swallowed and with great effort she threw her pride aside for a second because Wes deserved this, for someone to listen to him for a change.
"Which parts?" She asked him, he glanced up at her in surprise but quickly recovered and looked away again. For a horrible moment Santana thought that she'd done the wrong thing again, that he wasn't going to answer her but then he began to speak.
"Beth came into the room, she was my step-mom. I can remember it exactly, you know? Everything down to the smallest details. I was sat on my bed, my old bed at my old house, playing video games. I didn't even register she'd come in, I never did. I was a bit of a... a bit of a pain I guess." He admitted ruefully rubbing the back of his neck. "It's not that I didn't like her, she was always nice enough I guess. I go visit her every now and again..." He stopped for a second and for a moment it seemed like he wouldn't continue but the he took a big breath and went on.
"She walked into the room and asked me to turn off my game. I ignored her. She asked again and this time I realised... I noticed how much her voice was shaking, I looked up and saw her face and... I knew. I know it may sound... but yeah, you could tell something was really wrong." Wes frowned and his breathing became a little deeper. Santana was frozen, she wanted to reach out and comfort but the part of her brain still hell-bent on remaining guarded fought against that will. Slowly he turned his head to look directly at her. His eyes were sad and that sadness echoed hollowly inside of Santana.
"It's like this horrible weight. It drops in your stomach and just spreads throughout your entire body. At first everything just... stops. You don't feel anything, you don't hear anything. Everything's still. Then it's like reality literally comes crashing back, flooding you with too much emotion all at once." He paused and no matter how much a part of her wanted to turn her eyes away she knew that she couldn't. Wes clearly needed this and so she held his hand, lacing their fingers together. His eyes flashed briefly with a smile and his mouth twitched. He released her from his stare and looked back out the window, continuing in a much lighter tone than before.
"She told me what had happened, he'd pulled out at a junction and someone had jumped the lights. It happened instantly." Santana couldn't deal with it. She could have said something snide, something that would get him out of her hair once and for all but she couldn't. A wave of empathy washed through her and before her good sense could intervene she'd wrapped her arms around him, awkwardly pinning his arms to his body, and rested her cheek on his shoulder.
"I don't know what to say." She admitted softly after a few minutes spent in silent. Wes answered by dropping his head so that it rested on hers.
"You don't have to say anything... this..." he inhaled briefly, "This is more than enough." Santana shivered as he exhaled into her hair. For what felt like a long time they didn't move but eventually Santana sighed and loosened her arms. She looked up at Wes and saw a flash of disappointment in his eyes before he had a chance to conceal it. She pulled away but he wrapped his fingers around her hand at the last minute and held on tightly. Santana didn't pull away.
"Why are you telling me all this?" She asked him, honestly confused at how he could disclose so much personal information to her with absolutely no hesitation. It just didn't happen. People didn't confide in Santana, not in the past, not now, not ever. A strange look flitted across Wes' face, a mix between confusion and humour.
"I trust you, Santana." He smiled warmly and squeezed her hand. Santana blinked at him, shocked and embarrassed. Heat flooded her cheeks and she turned her face away from him in humiliation. Her lips tightened in irritation at the involuntary evidence that his words had affected her written all over her face. It was ridiculous really how such a heavy, dark atmosphere could be dispelled so quickly the instant Wes began to laugh. Santana snatched her hand from his and glared at him through narrowed eyes.
"Shut up Wes," she snapped, when his only answer was to laugh even harder her eyes quickly scanned the bed. Santana grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at him.
He stuck out his tongue and threw the pillow right back. Santana picked a picture up, it must have been taken a few years after his father died as his grandmother, Lily, was standing next to him smiling at the camera. They seemed to be in... "Disney World?" She asked. Wes nodded enthusiastically.
"It is the best place ever. I love Disney World. Grandma took me every year after dad died, up until I was sixteen." He said. Santana snickered at the ridiculously excitable child in the photo with his mouse ears. His grandmother looked exhausted. Santana couldn't blame her, Wes was excitable as a puppy in any normal situation, she shuddered to think what he was like in a theme park of all places.
"So you've lived with your grandma since you were thirteen?" Wes nodded.
"Dad left home when he was eighteen, went to College to study medicine. He'd never gotten on well with his own father and when he got to College he met my mother. As you can tell, my dad's parents were never exactly short of money," Santana rolled her eyes at him and he grinned at her. "Grandfather had never really approved of the decisions Dad made, he was very traditional, hard-headed. He expected dad to study Law, get a degree and take over the firm. Dad refused, he wanted to be a doctor. He left to start his own family. He was a good man, a good dad." His smile was genuine but tinged with sadness. Santana was glad when he continued as her throat was feeling thick and she doubted she'd be able to speak. She hated it. Hated how emotional she was becoming. Wes kept bringing out sides of her that she'd actively repressed for years. Her arms itched to hug him again but she resisted and let him continue.
"Dad cut all ties. It must have broken grandma's heart but she was stubborn too. She stuck by grandfather. I never met him. All I know about him has come from either dad or grandma herself. He died before Dad did, Cancer. Dad went to his funeral but he'd told me to stay home, that I was too young... I met grandma eight months after dad died. I'd been living with Beth, my step-mom but she couldn't handle me, I was a mess. One day she'd had enough and we packed my bags. I can't blame her, she tried." Santana frowned and a surge of protective anger flowed through her veins. She instantly hated Beth, whoever she was, for turning her back on Wes after everything that had happened to him. She didn't realise how vicious a scowl she was wearing until Wes tapped her cheek lightly with a wide grin, his eyes teasing.
"Don't make that face! It wasn't her fault. I really was a horrible child. I swore, I got into fights... but then Grandma turned up, the day I was meant to leave with the social worker. She took me in and brought me here. She was like no one I'd ever met before. Sure, she was strict and didn't take any prisoners but she was so invested. I kept thinking that eventually she'd leave me too but she persevered, she never left." Santana thought of the old woman she'd met downstairs. The fierce protective fire in her eyes and the proud way she'd stood tall. She felt the smile reaching her lips despite herself. "She's great, she looks stern but honestly," Wes' eyes shined and he grinned back. "Once you get to know her..." something shifted. A light-bulb flashed brightly in Wes' mind, Santana saw it in his eyes. His smile turned playful as he regarded her slyly.
"She's got a hard exterior but once you get past that she really does have a warm heart, she's a lot like someone else I could mention." Wes winked at her and Santana blanched in shock. She covered her face with a hand to hide her expression. She felt Wes' laughter vibrate through her against her arm. Once she'd recovered she aimed a punch at his arm. She doubted he felt it, his arms were a lot stronger than they looked.
They spent the next hour sifting through the photos, Wes told her about his life and Santana sat with a growing warmth and worrying affection growing stronger and harder to avoid with every passing minute. Eventually they returned the photos to the box and Wes returned them to their place under the bed. Wes really had burned a CD for her and he picked it up before they exited the room.
"Why don't you stick those photos up there with the rest of them?" Santana asked on their way out looking again at the wall of photos. Wes gave a rare show of discomfort, shifting his position on the bed and furrowing his brows. Eventually his expression relaxed into a small smile.
"I like to be reminded of the things I have rather that what I lost." Santana considered that statement for a moment before nodding, the flicker of a smile lighting her lips too.
"I can relate to that, I guess." Wes held out his hand and for the second time that day Santana made the decision to accept it. Wes beamed at her and led her to the door.
"We could still make the later showing for that movie if you want," he suggested. "Oh, and if grandma asks you'd love to stay for tea but we can't because of this later showing. Got it?"
Santana nodded. Although the prospect of humiliating Wes was not usually something she'd willingly turn down the prospect of spending time with the nearest person Wes had to a parent was something she'd like to avoid. She didn't want to expose herself to that just yet. Maybe some other time she thought idly to herself before she realised what thinking something like that meant. Santana was getting too comfortable. She was scolding herself for her letting down her guard so much when she spotted another familiar face on Wes' wall, a face that she recognised again in a photo blown up to a bigger size than the rest. Wes sensed her coming to an immediate halt behind him and turned to see what had caused her to pause. Santana's eyes had widened to a comical degree and Wes laughed at the look on her face.
"When the hell was this taken?" She asked him with a hint of irritation. She knew exactly when it had been taken of course, it was the moment Kurt's prep-school boys had flooded the restaurant and begun to sing and dance with the rest of them.
"It's the night we first met!" Wes chirped happily.
"Why would you have this on your wall?" Santana asked quietly, just loud enough that Wes could hear. He simply grinned down at her, his eyes with a hint of condescending humour.
"Of course I'd have a picture of you up here," His eyes softened a little and Santana shrunk back minutely, afraid of what was coming next. "You're important to me." He concluded as a blush rose in Santana's cheeks for the second time that day. She ducked her head indignantly and pushed him out of the door hiding the flush in her face.
"I've also had it copied and hung it in my locker." Santana froze again and Wes turned to smirk at her.
"Wesley," She sneered angrily. "I am going to kill you."
"You'll have to catch me first!" He sang and began to run away. Santana glanced back up at the photo quickly and allowed herself to feel the twinge of warmth she felt before proceeding to catch up to Wes.
Okay so that took longer than I'd hoped but it's finally done! There was a lot of information there, I hope it wasn't too much, I know not much happened but I wanted to highlight some of Wes' past. I haven't edited it as much as I usually do as I just wanted to get it out ASAP so I might go back and edit it later. I hope there's not too many mistakes or confusion!
Unfortunately I'm going on holiday next week so I can't update till a week on Monday! I'll be taking my notebook with me though and writing up the next chapter so hopefully it'll just be a matter of typing it up and posting it! If you want to keep up with me in the mean time you can find me on tumblr if you like. The link is on my profile page!
I found in the New York episode that Santana showed a much softer side when comforting Quinn. I loved it and I wanted to capture that a little here. I know there's a soft centre there somewhere!
As always I hope you liked it and any feedback is great, thanks!